


30 Days of Domestic Fluff

by Cinlat



Series: Tumblr Prompts & Drabbles [9]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: 30 days of Domestic fluff, Banter, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Inappropriate Humor, Life with a Mandalorian, Mandalorian, Mando'a, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 06:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 7,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14910314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinlat/pseuds/Cinlat
Summary: Just a little snippet of drabbles from a 30 day challenge on Tumblr. Each chapter is less than 500 words, and are all either fluffy or angsty tidbits from the lives of my favorite Havoc Squad commanders.





	1. Waking Up Together

**Prompt: Waking Up Together** ****  
**Word Count: 233  
** **Author’s Note: Today was my anniversary, which sparked this little drabble.**

 

Yellow, neon light filtered through the blinds. Jorgan blinked a few times, then realized that the restaurant across from their Nar Shaddaa apartment had switched from the dinner buffet, to an advertisement of their signature breakfast deal. Jorgan would hate that sign if it didn’t signal that he was at home, in bed with his wife.

Knowing that said wife had no intentions of being productive that day, Jorgan snuggled deeper into the mattress and buried his face in Fynta’s hair to blot out the light. She sighed, pressing her back against his chest, and pulled his hand around her body. It was a comfortable position, one that he’d have easily fallen asleep in had the holo not hummed on the bedside table.

Jorgan ignored the buzzing, it was their day off, after all, until Fynta swore and pulled away from him. “Wolfe,” she answered with an annoyed huff that morphed into a yawn mid-way through the word.

“Happy Anniversary!” Cormac yelled from the other end, then blanched. “Yikes, boss, your hair is a mess.”

“When I see you again, you’re going to sing soprano,” Fynta ground out before hanging up on the man.

Jorgan rolled into a sitting position just as Fynta flopped over. He chuckled and smoothed the scowl lines from her forehead with his thumb. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

Fynta grinned, waggled her eyebrows, and pulled Jorgan back into bed.


	2. Wearing Each Other's Clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Wearing Each Other’s Clothes  
> Word Count: 185

“Fynta,” Jorgan called as he entered their room. “Have you seen my shirt?”

The Cathar paused at the door. Fynta sat on their bed, bare legs crossed beneath her in that odd way that women sat. He’d have considered joining her, had those mismatched limbs not been peeking out from under a shirt that was two sizes too big.

“Fynta,” Jorgan growled in warning. Their laundry wouldn’t be done for another hour, and he’d laid out his last shirt to wear after a shower. That same last shirt that now adorned his wife’s body. “I need that.” The rest of Havoc would return soon, and the Cathar didn’t fancy meeting them in just his pants.

A black ball smacked Jorgan in the face, and he unfurled it to find a much smaller version of the one Fynta wore. “You’re not funny.” He held her top against his torso more out of habit than curiosity.

“No,” Fynta remarked, and Jorgan heard the click of her camera. His horror doubled when he looked up to meet his wife’s impish grin. “But, this moment is now immortalized.”


	3. Cooking Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cooking Together   
> Word Count: 222  
> A/N: A little throwback to their first real ‘relationship’ moment together. Found in Family is more than Blood, Ch 22.

Fynta resisted the urge to laugh at the way Aric held the knife. The man could take out a target from more than a klick away, but ask him to chop a few vegetables, and he looked completely out of his domain. Finally, Fynta couldn’t fight temptation any longer. “Careful, Riduur, I wouldn’t want you to cut yourself.”

Aric offered a droll glare in return. “Ha, ha. This was your idea, remember. I was perfectly happy with MREs.” 

The Cathar continued to mutter while butchering the root that he was supposed to be chopping. Fynta should have listened when he warned her that he couldn’t cook, but shab, Tiingilar was nearly impossible to screw up. Sliding behind her husband, Fynta threaded her arms through his, then let her fingers glide down his forearms to rest on his hands. “How about I help?”

Jorgan muttered, but Fynta could tell that his heart wasn’t in it by the way he relaxed into her touch. With her cheek resting between Aric’s shoulder blades, Fynta guided his movements until the pot boiled over with all manner of filling. Part of her wondered if this had been his plan all along. If so, she gave the Cathar credit. It wasn’t half bad for his first attempt, but next time, Fynta would relegate Aric back to whiskey duty.


	4. Morning Routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Morning Routine  
> Word Count: 269

 

Fynta snarled, barely resisting the urge to punch her husband. “Come on,” Jorgan coaxed. “I’ve seen you handle worse than this.” He pushed deeper, and Fynta swore.

Most couples probably didn’t begin their mornings with threats of violence, but Fynta had never been one for tradition. “Not going to wimp out on me, are you?” Jorgan taunted, then huffed a light laugh when Fynta glared up at him.

“When I get back on my feet, you’ll regret those words.” Fynta’s right leg shook from the strain of Aric’s weight, and she bit her lip to keep from whimpering.

“But, until then,” Jorgan husked, leaning closer to Fynta’s ear. “You’re at my mercy.”

“Like hell,” Fynta growled, kicking against her husband with a fury that startled them both. Jorgan grunted at the unexpected force and toppled off balance. In an instant, Fynta rolled the Cathar onto his back to straddle his chest.

Jorgan laughed and rested his hands on Fynta’s thighs. “Like it or not, these morning stretches keep your right leg from becoming dependant on the greater strength of the prosthetic.” He patted her hip. “And, it helps you heal faster.”

Fynta rested her elbows on Jorgan’s chest, ignoring his wince when she added the weight of her chin to her hands. “You don’t have to enjoy it so much.” Fynta offered what she hoped was a convincing pout, but judging by the amused expression on her husband’s face, it was a colossal failure.  
  
Tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear, Aric gave Fynta a peck on the lips. “A man’s got to have a hobby.”


	5. Doing Laundry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Doing Laundry  
> Word Count: 188

“What’s this?” Fynta asked, holding up a garment that stood out from the mixture of black and grey SpecForce clothing. She and Aric were working on laundry in their room, and she was fairly certain that Dorne would have commented on something with such a vibrant shade of blue tainting their requisitioned gear.

“Huh,” Aric remarked, glancing up briefly and not showing near enough curiosity. “Must’ve slipped in by accident.”

Fynta narrowed her eyes at the Cathar, then shook the mysterious article out. “Slipped in my shebs,” she muttered, then burst out laughing. “Well, well.” Fynta held the slinky gown against her body, smoothing it down and turning to offer her husband a better view.

Jorgan stopped rolling his socks, eyes locked on Fynta with a heated expression that she knew all too well. “Hmm, that’s a good color on you. Maybe you should keep it.”

Fynta grinned at her husband, then leaned forward to swipe the rest of their rumbled clothing onto the floor. She watched Aric, while he stared at her. Slowly, Fynta lifted the hem of her shirt. “Let’s make sure it’s my size, first.”


	6. Homework and/or Job Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homework and/or Job Work  
> Word Count: 226

The conference room aboard the Thunderclap held many purposes. Some were more enjoyable than others. Fynta had laughed with her aliit, drank illegal booze with Vik, and listened to Cormac’s sappy stories while pretending to understand Elara’s intellectual jargon. However, her least favorite activity to take place in this room would be filing reports. A sentiment that Jorgan didn’t seem to share.

Fynta peeked over her datapad to find that Aric’s stack of completed reports nearly doubled her own. She blew an annoyed breath between her lips. “How about a deal,” Fynta began, ignoring the way her husband’s lips twitched at the corners. When Jorgan didn’t respond, she continued. “I’ll clean your share of the weapons if you finish my reports.” Fynta punctuated the bargain with her best impression of an innocent smile.

Jorgan’s gaze rose slowly, his pale, blue eyes pinning Fynta for a long moment before answering. “You realize that this week I planned to field strip all of the rifles, right?” Fynta hesitated, then nodded. Breaking down, scrubbing, oiling, then reassembling a dozen high caliber rifles would always be preferable to administrative duty. 

Having his answer, Jorgan reached across the table to slide Fynta’s stack of datapads towards him, then nodded in the direction of the armory. “Better get to work, woman. I plan to go out for a drink when I’m done.”


	7. Nighttime Routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nighttime Routine  
> Word Count: 223

Fynta had never allowed a man to sleep at her back. Generally speaking, she’d hardly stuck around long enough to fall asleep unless there was no other choice. Aric Jorgan had changed all of that. From the first night they’d spent together, Fynta felt at ease with the Cathar, a strange sentiment given their species’ rocky history.

When Jorgan walked into their room yawning, Fynta slid lower into the blankets in preparation for their nightly routine. She rolled onto her right side to avoid putting pressure on her false hip and waited. Aric carried on about the list of things they needed to complete the next day, as usual, while Fynta pretended to ignore him. It was a night like every other.

Giving up on gaining his wife’s cooperation, Jorgan climbed into bed and pressed his chest against Fynta’s back. His arm folded over her waist, one leg wedged between her thighs, and his face in her hair. Fynta had always expected a man as tall as her husband to rest his chin on her head like he did when they hugged. But no, every night, the Cathar nuzzled against her hair, took a deep breath, then promptly fell asleep. Shab, what she wouldn’t give to pass out so quickly. Still, with his warmth soaking into her sore hip, it rarely took long.


	8. Keeping Plants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Keeping Plants  
> Word Count: 100

Fynta flopped down at the table across from Jogan, thumped the pot onto its freshly polished surface, and harrumphed. Jorgan glanced up from his datapad, lifted a brow bone, but kept his tongue. Silence filled the conference room while Fynta pouted. “It’s dead.”

That got Jorgan’s attention, and he slowly lowered the datapad. “Beg pardon?”

Fynta continued to glower, chin in hand, while she poked at what Jorgan now realized was the blackened leaf of a plant. “Elara should have known better than to entrust me with her herbs.”  
Jorgan winced, then went back to his article. “Yeah, that one’s on her.”


	9. Night In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Night In  
> Word Count: 249

Fynta considered her husband: the furrowed brow, perpetual scowl, and the irritable way he stroked his jaw. Life had been more chaotic than ever for Havoc Squad lately, and Fynta couldn’t remember the last time they’d had time off. That changed tonight. She was pulling a page from Jorgan’s book, and had called for a mandatory R&R. Now, if she could get her XO to stop being so shabbing insubordinate about it.

Action must be taken soon if Fynta had any hopes for a peaceful evening. Stalking forward, she snatched the datapad from her husband’s fingers and lowered a bottle of Corellian whiskey in its place. “We’re taking the night off, Captain. That’s an order.”

Jorgan looked at the bottle longingly, then up at Fynta. “Just let me finish that one.” He reached for the datapad, but Fynta refused. The look on his face when she tossed the device over her shoulder would have been priceless were it not for the solid sound it made against the floor. She’d probably have to buy him a new one. Again.

Leaving that concern for later, Fynta slid into Jorgan’s lap, and looped an arm around his shoulder so that she could open the bottle with both hands. He sighed at the heady aroma, relaxing against his chair. “There, that’s not so bad, right?”

Jorgan gave Fynta a droll glare, then took the bottle from her hands. He tipped it back, released another sigh, and nodded. “Fine. But, back to work tomorrow.”


	10. Shopping (For Needs)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shopping (For Needs)  
> Word Count: 193

“I need this.”

Fynta glanced over her shoulder to find Aric looking down the latest scope to come off the line from his favorite manufacturer. She had to admit, the Cathar had good taste when it came to his guns. “That’s not on the list.” Fynta waved her datapad, where Elara had scrawled an intricate and color-coded requisitions list for her commanders. Clearly, the woman didn’t trust Fynta’s judgment.

Aric turned the site towards Fynta, then used his thumb to activate the laser. She lifted a brow. While Fynta couldn’t see the dot, she knew it centered on her forehead. “I doubt Dorne would notice.” Fynta’s eyebrow climbed higher, and Jorgan lowered the equipment with a sigh. If there was anything her husband would get pouty over, it was a missed opportunity of high-quality gear.

Muttering, Jorgan snatched the datapad out of Fynta’s hand and stalked off to take his annoyance out on the poor sap manning the rations booth. With a devilish smirk, Fynta sidled back to the table where the site was on display and slipped the man behind it an unmarked cred stick. “Have it shipped to these coordinates.”


	11. Exercising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exercising  
> Word Count: 134

Jorgan stared, transfixed by the blood on Fynta’s lip. The little cut shouldn’t give him so much pleasure. It shouldn’t give him any, actually. But, it did. For two years he had searched for a way around Fynta’s defenses. Sure, he’d gotten in a hit or two while she was distracted, but that single drop of blood signaled something new in their sparing relationship. Both had been focused, and he’d still managed to strike her.

Jorgan grinned.

Fynta dragged the pad of her thumb across the offending area, then studied it with a level of intensity that bordered on obscene. “Well done, cyare.” She dropped into a crouch, fists balled oddly by her side, and eyes blazing. This couldn’t be good. His concerns were legitimized when she offered a feral grin. “Let’s go again.”


	12. Washing Dishes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Washing Dishes  
> Word Count: 217

“You know what’s great about being a soldier?” Fynta stretched, lacing her fingers behind her head. She scooted the rations tray out of the way so she could prop her feet on the table.

“Free kit?” Jorgan answered while looking down the barrel of his freshly cleaned rifle. 

Fynta grinned. “Definitely a perk.” She hadn’t expected an answer from the Cathar, but wasn’t surprised that it had to do with his beloved gun. If Fynta hadn’t grown up Mandalorian, she might even be jealous of the relationship he shared with his weapons. Then again, he’d made her Verpine pistol, so she had no room to argue.

“The best part about being stuck in space, on a ship,” Fynta paused, grabbed her dinner container and tossed it towards the bin, “Is the lack of dishes.”

Jorgan chuckled, but didn’t argue the point. Given that the Cathar barely knew how to heat soup, Fynta doubted he would. Just for the hell of it, she nudged him with her foot. “I think you should warm dinner tomorrow, just to make our relationship equal. Can I trust you with this responsibility, Captain?”

Without a hint of humor, and in the driest tone Fynta had ever heard, Jorgan answered while looking into the blaster oil container. “I’ll try not to burn it, sir.”


	13. Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hair  
> Word Count: 222

Fynta sighed in contentment. It was a quiet morning, one where the fate of the Republic didn’t depend on her decision. Of course, just because Fynta took the morning off, didn’t mean that Aric would. She knew better than to push for him to put the datapad down, especially when he wore that particular scowl. 

For once, Fynta gave up the fight before it began and plopped onto the sofa next to her husband. She laid her head in Aric’s lap and smiled when his fingers instinctively tangled in her loose hair. Since the moment he’d first worked up the courage to touch her, Fynta’s long hair had captivated the Cathar. 

Fynta had become addicted to the soothing chills that Aric’s caresses raised on her skin. It was a sort of intimacy that she’d never known before, and only her grumpy Cathar would ever be allowed to run his fingers through the yellow strands. Fynta didn’t even mind when he hit a tangle, so long as he didn’t work too aggressively at it. 

“I’ll be done after this report is finished,” Aric murmured, startling Fynta from her pleasant daze. 

Fynta snuggled closer to her husband, turning her head to offer better access. She was content in this position, and in no rush to move. “No worries, riduur,” she sighed. “Take your time.”


	14. A Heated Argument

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Heated Argument  
> Word Count: 330

Fynta knew that she should apologize. Contrary to what Theron and Cormac believed, she didn’t like making her husband growl. Well, she did, but not in anger. After so many years together, Aric really should be used to her antics by now. In Fynta’s opinion, he should be over the need to berate when she leapt into the fray, that was her nature. Just as his was to be an overprotective grump.

Sighing, Fynta peeked through the door to where Jorgan still paced their small safe house, muttering. No doubt  _ blasted woman _ had entered into it a time or two. That thought brought a smile to her lips. Aric Jorgan would never be able to set aside his need to protect those around him. The Cathar could snarl and glower all he wanted, but Fynta knew it came from a good heart. She often wondered what had possessed him to marry her. He’d stitched her wounds and cleaned enough of her blood up before binding his life to hers to know what he was in for. Maybe that was why she loved him so much, his unbending loyalty no matter how much she infuriated him.

Maturity had never been Fynta’s strongest quality. She had spells of rational thinking, sometimes they were even clever. Today’s had not been one of those, and the more Fynta considered that, the more she realized how unjust her anger had been. Jorgan could no more restrain himself from railing against Fynta’s recklessness than she could from committing it. It was too deeply ingrained in them both. If she expected Aric to accept her completely, then she should submit to his tirade when the dust settled.  
  
_ There it is _ , Fynta though as she stepped through the door.  _ My mature moment for the day _ . Aric turned when he sensed her presence, the two looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment, and he nodded. It was over, the fight ended. Now, they could get back to normal.


	15. Coffee and/or Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coffee and/or Tea  
> Word Count: 293

“Fluffy’s crankier than usual, today,” Vik muttered as he passed Fynta in the hall.

Fynta blinked after the Weequay, then decided to check in on her husband just in case Vik’s claims weren’t unwarranted. They’d been on Rishi for nearly a week; big personalities crammed into a tiny safe house. Truthfully, she’d expected Aric and Vik to come to blows by now.

Jorgan stood by the holotable, glaring at the layout of a half-buried ship. Fynta joined him, and when he didn’t acknowledge her presence, nudged him with her shoulder. “Easy, riduur, you’re scaring the hired help.”

“What?” Fynta smirked at the Cathar’s confussion, then felt a pang of sympathy when he ran a hand over his face. “This humidity is a killer,” he finally admitted. No doubt being covered in fur made Rishi all the more unbearable, and Jorgan had hated it even before they stepped off the Thunderclap.

“Lana says that we’ll move on the Revanites soon, just hang in there.” Fynta spun the holographic diagram, looking for a better approach than going in through the front door.

Jorgan sighed, then pushed himself upright. “What I wouldn’t kill for a decent cup of ‘caf.” The Cathar leaned one hip against the table and crossed his arms. “The swill they serve here should be considered toxic.”

Fynta thought for a moment, then grinned up at her husband. “You know, I’ve never known Theron to take on a mission like this without bringing along a few personal effects.” Her grin widened when Jorgan’s brow rose. “We all know he’s addicted to the stuff.”

Realization transformed Jorgan’s expression so drastically that Fynta laughed. His eyes glowed with a rare mischievous glint when he lowered his voice. “I’ll distract him, you grab the goods.”


	16. Pets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Pets  
> Word Count: 236

“I want one.” Fynta and Jorgan stared into the black eyes of a young tauntaun. The beast had been orphaned, leaving the soldiers on Hoth to care for it as a distraction from the monotony and cold.

“No,” Jorgan replied flatly. When Fynta held her hand out to the small creature, he decided to try appealing to Fynta’s logical side. “Where would you keep it?”

Fynta crouched beside the taunling and scratched behind its ears, ignoring Jorgan’s question. “Let’s retire and start a farm on Manda’yiam. We could raise a whole bunch of cute, baby animals.”

Jorgan was so caught off guard that he sputtered. “We are not retiring to the Mandalorian homeworld, Fynta.” He doubted that the locals would welcome a Cathar into their midst. When his wife continued to turn a deaf ear to his argument, Jorgan snorted in indignation. “Do you know anything about running a farm?”

Fynta opened her mouth to answer, but Jorgan grabbed her by the upper arm and hauled her away from the taunling. He knew that look; the reminder that before she’d lost her clan, Fynta had been a proper daughter of Mandalore. “I’m grounding you to the ship–sir–and ordering Cormac to sit on you until this mission is over.” Fynta’s laughter trailed behind him, though she put no effort into breaking his hold. “Retire to Mandalore,” the Cathar muttered with a growl.

Fynta laughed all the harder.

**Pets Bonus Drabble  
Word Count: 505**

Jorgan’s mission was almost over. He’d successfully kept Vik from insulting anyone, Elara had aided in the medbay, and Yuun found all the parts they needed. As far as Havoc missions went, it had been low key, partly due to the fact that their excentric commanding officer was sequestered on the Thunderclap with Cormac to guard her.

Aric had one last briefing to wrap up, then they’d be off this ice heap and on to the next op. He paused to let a private jog past, pulling up the specs for whatever Yuun’s newest project was. “Sir, have you seen the taunling?”

The hair on the back of Jorgan’s next stood on end. He continued reading his datapad with one ear turned towards the conversation that detailed the sudden dissapearance of the base’s mascot. A weight settled in his gut, then morphed into a growl in the back of his throat.

With measured strides, Jorgan headed back towards the Thunderclap where he’d left his wife. Her closest friend might not have been the best choice for a jailor, after all. There was no way in all seven Corellian hells that the taunling had gone missing on its own.

The moment Jorgan stepped through the ship’s airlock, he heard the whispered voices of not only Cormac and Fynta, but Vik too. Of course, the Weequay would join in the heist; anything to further irritate his Cathar commander.

“It can’t stay in my room, Elara’s allergic,” Cormac laughed. “Plus, she’ll do unspeakable things to me in my sleep. Remember that we live in the medbay, where all the sharp instruments are kept.”

“Well,” Fynta began, and Jorgan paused to listen. He pictured his wife grinning at her cohorts, hands on hips, while they discussed the creature’s future habitation. “He can’t stay in my room, Jorgan doesn’t like things that are cuter than him.”

The Cathar snorted, baring his teeth at such a ludicrous comment. “So, Fluffy won’t let you have any other pets, huh?” Vik added with a gravely laugh that set Jorgan’s teeth on edge.

Having had enough, Aric rounded the corner, expecting to find a small tauntaun standing in their midst. What he discovered were the three soldiers sitting in a circle in various stages of relaxation. All eyes turned on him. “Where is it?”

“Where’s what, riduur?” Fynta cast a smirk at her companions.

Before Jorgan could answer, the ship’s comm system activated. “Sir, we’ve successfully established the orphaned taunling with another herd,” Elara announced, and Fynta’s grin widened. “Yuun and I will return soon, I’d like to stay a while to ensure it nurses properly.”

“Take your time, Dorne,” Fynta answered, swinging one leg over the arm of her chair. “We aren’t going anywhere.”

The comm cut off, and Havoc’s CO contiued to smile. “How are the briefings going?”  
Jorgan snarled, turned on his heel, and stormed out to a chorus of laughter.


	17. Vacations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Vacation  
> Word Count: 263

Jorgan darted down an alley, dragging Fynta in his wake while she screamed at their pursuers. “Come on, you filthy shabuir!” He pushed her against the wall and slapped a hand over her mouth. Fynta glared at him, and Aric half expected to feel her teeth sink into his fingers. Fynta had always been hard to manage when deprived of a bar brawl.

Keeping the makeshift gag in place, Jorgan listened for the running boots. When the footsteps led away from them, he sighed. “Just once,” Aric growled. “I’d like to go on a vacation that doesn’t end with you in jail or the medcenter.”

Fynta mumbled against Jorgan’s hand, and he pulled it away to allow her to speak. She smacked her lips, then grinned. “Our honeymoon wasn’t so bad.”

Aric rolled his eyes. “Except for the threat of SIS imprisonment and your missing sister.”  
Fynta’s mirth faded. “Right, I forgot about that.” She remained silent for a little longer, clearly searching her memory for a time when they’d had a stress free vacation. “Shab,” Fynta finally breathed. “We’ve got the worst track record of anyone I know. And, that’s saying something.”

Jorgan shook his head, then leaned out of the alley. After a cursory look, Jorgan gave Fynta the all clear. Her vigor for a fight seemed to have diminished to a safe enough level that he could trust her out in the open again. Slipping an arm around his wife’s waist, Jorgan angled them towards the hotel. “Come on, we’re locking ourselves in for the rest of the trip.”


	18. Family Visits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Family Visits  
> Word Count: 237

“Fyn’ika!”

Fynta groaned, her shoulders tense as she slowly faced her brother. She’d barely made the full turn before Verin slammed into her, nearly taking both Wolfe siblings off their feet. Aric stood back with arms crossed and grinned.

Verin lived to antagonize Fynta. Jorgan knew first hand that he would tear anyone who threatened her apart, though kept his distance to avoid sullying her reputation. Over the years, the bounty hunter had pulled strings behind the scenes, opening doors and eliminating threats. Fynta had only discovered a small portion of his handiwork recently.

While the atmosphere between Jorgan and the Mandalorian remained frosty, he respected Verin’s commitment to Fynta. Both men had an unspoken agreement that they would be hospitable for Fynta’s sake. The irony being that Fynta didn’t care if her brother approved of her chosen mate, and Jorgan suspected that was the sole reason that Verin had been a reoccurring figure in their life recently.

In the end, it didn’t matter. As Jorgan watched Fynta slap her brother’s hands away from her hair, he knew that she would never ask them to change. Fynta was capable of being Aric’s wife, and Verin’s little sister, without expecting them to act as a cohesive unit. Truthfully, Jorgan simply enjoyed watching the way Verin vexed her. It was cosmic karma, retribution for all the hell her antics put Jorgan through. And, a rare pleasure for the Cathar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who follow the Battlefield series, this is pre-Rishi. Jorgan’s relationship with Fynta’s family changed a lot during that whole ordeal.


	19. Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Kisses   
> Word Count: 157

Fynta never did anything the normal way, and as infuriating as she could be, her spontaneity kept their relationship alive. There was no better example than the sparring match that Jorgan currently found himself in.

It had started innocently enough. Fynta stood with her back to Aric, a prime opportunity to nuzzle her neck and shower his wife with affection. He really should have expected an aggressive response, but Jorgan had been surprised when Fynta spun in his arms and shoved him against the wall. Then, she’d danced away with a playful grin. One that dared him to follow.

And so, Jorgan found himself locked in hand to hand combat with his wife. For every strike scored, the victor earned a kiss. The match wouldn’t end until one of them pinned the other, but Jorgan wasn’t in a hurry. He satisfied himself with stolen kisses when Fynta came too close, and her laughter ringing through the ship.


	20. Shopping (For Wants)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shopping (For Fun)  
> Word Count: 354

 

“No peeking.” Aric’s breath tickled Fynta’s neck when he whispered in her ear.

Fynta allowed herself to be led into a bustling crowd with Jorgan’s hands covering her eyes. From the number of voices, and the way they echoed off the walls, she guessed it was a large, open room. “Where are you taking me, riduur?”

“You’ll see,” Aric answered. “Just a little further.”

The smell of blaster oil assailed Fynta’s sense of smell. She heard a vendor discussing the range on a particular type of ammo in Aqualish, while a Rodian to her left swore about the inflated price. Fynta smiled, placing her hands over Aric’s while he guided her through what she was sure had to be the latest weapons expo to appear on Nar Shaddaa.

Fynta had eyed this event for nearly four months, but Havoc’s schedule was less than accommodating. She’d been disappointed about missing the cut off date for purchasing tickets…loudly. Fynta had to bite her tongue now to keep from ruining Jorgan’s surprise.

“We’re here.” Jorgan’s fingers withdrew to reveal an auditorium filled with booths from every weapon’s manufacturer in the known galaxy. Fynta even recognized a few icons that marked the not so legal companies. 

Fynta faced her husband with a broad grin only to discover that his far outmatched her own. “When did buy the tickets?”

Aric shrugged. “I know people too.” Fynta raised an eyebrow, and Jorgan mirrored it. “Not as many as you, maybe, but just as valuable.” 

Fynta chuckled and popped up on her toes to give Jorgan a quick kiss. Then, she rubbed her hands together greedily. “Alright, where should we begin?”

“I suggest that one,” Jorgan answered, pointing over her shoulder with one hand, while the other slipped around her waist to reveal a handful of credit chips. “I even got the unmarked ones, just for you.”

“You know me so well,” Fynta breathed, distracted by Aric’s nearness. The clink of creds in his palm brought Fynta back to herself. She cast a smile over her shoulder, one that promised a grand reward later. “Come, cyare. Let’s have some fun.”


	21. Nursing The Sick One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nursing the Sick One  
> Word Count: 361

Fynta poked her head into the room to see Jorgan’s back. She waited in silence, watching the steady rise and fall of his shoulders. Jorgan had always been a light sleeper, and a high fever didn’t seem to change that aspect. Leave it to her husband to catch a Cathar specific antigen during their time off. She’d had to pull some serious strings to get high command to remand Aric to her care without revealing their highly unsanctioned marriage. Then, the grumpy shabuir had refused to go to sleep, leaving Fynta with no other choice than to spike his ‘caf with a sedative that she’d borrowed from Dorne. Elara probably wouldn’t be pleased either.

When Jorgan remained still, Fynta carefully crept into the room. She didn’t want to wake Aric to check his temperature, so slowly sank her fingers into the fur at his neck until she reached skin. He was still warmer than normal, granted, normal for a Cathar was a lot higher than human. Maybe he was finally on the mend.

Fynta pulled back, and almost left the room, when a shadow caught her attention. It wasn’t the inky outline of their headboard that troubled her, but the source of the light casting it. Narrowing her eyes, Fynta wrinkled her nose. “You sneaky little besom.”

Jerking the blanket back, Aric winced when Fynta reached beneath his arm to free a datapad that hadn’t been there when she’d tucked him in. “One: This is leave, no working.” Jorgan sighed and flopped onto his back to stare up at her. “Two: I’m telling Dorne that you’re not following her instructions.”

Jorgan chuckled, even though it sounded forced, Fynta caught the threat in it. The Cathar held out his hand expectantly. “I’m bored. Now hand it over, or I tell Dorne who stole her sedative.”  
Fynta hesitated, then snorted in an unladylike way and tossed the device back onto the bed just out of his reach. “You’ve won this round, Aric Jorgan. But, I’ll remember this the next time you fuss at me about being injured.” Honestly, they were all terrible patients. Elara really was a saint for putting up with them.


	22. Trying Something New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying Something New   
> Word Count: 195

“What is it?” Jorgan wrinkled his nose at the potent scent of fermented fruit. He sniffed the concoction, then shook his head when it stung his nose. Whatever Fynta had poured into his cup could probably be used for engine degreaser. The fact that she’d only given him enough to cover the bottom made the Cathar doubly wary. “Did Vik brew this?”

Fynta shook her head, eyes gleaming with a mischievousness that made Jorgan’s gut tighten. “Stop being such a baby and taste it.” He didn’t miss that fact that Fynta dodged his question.

Heaving a sigh, while casting a threatening look at his wife, Jorgan lifted the glass and sipped. The Cathar coughed, baring his teeth as the unknown alcohol blazed down his throat and sat like a boulder in his stomach. “What–” his words came out in a choked cough. “The hell?”

Fynta laughed and came around to slap Jorgan on the back. “Tihaar, cyar’ika.” She grabbed the glass and tipped it back, then shook her head while blowing air through her lips. Slamming the glass back onto the table, Fynta reached for the opaque, navy blue bottle. “A true, Mandalorian treasure.”


	23. Hugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hugs   
> Word Count: 200

It had been a long day. Fynta dropped her helmet on the bed and rolled her head in a circle to work out the tightness in her shoulders. Havoc Squad had run for three days straight with only stims and brief naps during transport to keep them going.

Movement caught Fynta’s attention, and she glanced over her shoulder to see Jorgan straighten with stiff, jerky movements from removing his armor. The Cathar fell back on the bed and rubbed his busted knee. “Hell of a week, huh?”

Fynta tossed her plates to the side and moved to stand between Aric’s knees. “Yeah, it’ll be nice to sleep in our own bed again.” 

Jorgan hummed in agreement as his arms slid around Fynta’s waist so that he could pull her closer. His cheek pressed against her stomach, and Fynta sighed. Raking her nails over Jorgan’s scalp, she smiled at the raspy purr that her touch elicited. The heat from his embrace soothed Fynta’s tired muscles, and slowly, she began to relax. Jorgan’s hands rubbed small circles over Fynta’s back, lightly tracing the jagged scars there. Together, they breathed, locked in each other’s embrace; safe from the politics and horrors of the galaxy.


	24. Doctor Visits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Visits  
> Word Count: 308

Elara huffed. “Sir, I don’t understand why you summoned me if you planned to complain throughout the entire examination.”

“Because Jorgan made me,” Fynta shot back, casting a glare at her husband that would have given anyone else pause. Jorgan met her ire with a smirk, and Fynta answered with a snarl. Rolling her eyes when the Cathar’s teeth flashed in amusement, Fynta refocused on Dorne. “It was either you, or the medcenter.”

To her credit, Elara merely pursed her lips and carried on with the scans. Fynta had run a fever for the last four days, and while she might be the most stubborn woman Jorgan had ever met, whatever infection she’d caught was taking a toll on her body. He’d put his foot down that morning with the threat of tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her to a physician. Consequences be damned.

The scanner chirped, and Elara nodded. “It’s a simple, bacterial infection in your throat. Nothing serious, I’ll prescribe an antibiotic.” The Havoc medic tapped on her datapad. “You’ll be fine in a couple of days.”

Fynta glowered at Jorgan again, but when she opened her mouth, Elara spoke over her. “If you hadn’t have come to me soon, it could have infected other parts of your system and become dangerous. You really should take better care of yourself, sir.”

Jorgan’s expression turned smug when Fynta snapped her mouth shut. The woman crossed her arms and pouted like a child. He copied the pose, lifting a single brow bone at his wife. With those few looks, Aric and Fynta carried on an entire conversation. It wasn’t until she sighed and looked away that he felt his point had been made. While Jorgan was sure that Fynta would find a way to get back at him, the Cathar planned to savor this small victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by my ever so stubborn daughter who was convinced that her strep throat would go away on its own. It didn’t matter how much the doctor, nurse, or I tried to explain it, she’s still convinced that the visit to the office was unnecessary.


	25. Double Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double Date  
> Word Count: 211

 

Fynta blinked into the wind, then looked back at her companions. Cormac had invited her and Jorgan along on his anniversary trip through the Alderaanian mountain range. It apparently had to do with a promise that he’d made to Dorne back on Yavin. Fynta hadn’t scaled a mountain since rescuing that SIS agent on Tatooine, and to her delight, Jorgan had agreed.

Judging by the look on the Cathar’s face, he regretted it now. 

Fynta dropped back to trudge by her husband. Jorgan had never been one to complain, but it was clear that he’d expected this date to go in an entirely different direction. After two days in the mountains, Fynta decided to do some placating. “Would you like to head back? Find a nice hotel room back in civilization?”

To Fynta’s surprised, Jorgan raised a brow in her direction. “Tired already?” She blinked, sputtered, then snapped her mouth shut. That hadn’t been the reply she expected.

Jorgan smirked, then resituated the pack on his shoulders. “I’m fine, Fynta.” They walked in silence for a while, Fynta still trying to parse out why her Cathar seemed so grumpy if he wasn’t displeased with their environment. Finally, Aric leaned down and lowered his voice. “Next time, we pack our  _ own  _ tent.”


	26. House Cleaning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> House Cleaning  
> Word Count: 162

Aric smiled at the dark, blue shirt. He lifted it to his face and inhaled Fynta’s scent. The fabric had taken on a stale smell weeks ago, but Jorgan could still pick out the subtleties of his wife. Three months had passed since she’d stepped off the Thunderclap. Three long months of sleepless nights and lonely missions. Then, his promotion to Major yesterday, and the new CO of Havoc Squad. At one point in Aric’s life, that had been all he’d wanted.

Closing his eyes, Jorgan dropped the shirt into a box and sealed it. He wouldn’t come back to this place. Of course, the Nar Shaddaa apartment wasn’t his to sell, but he couldn’t bear the thought of one more night in a place that only Fynta had made home. 

Having completed his task, Aric sealed the doors, activated the alarm, and made for the speeder. Maybe one day he’d see this place again, but it wouldn’t be without his wife.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgetting Something  
> Word Count: 195

“Look on the bright side, riduur–”

“No.”

Fynta snapped her mouth shut. She knew better than to push Aric when he was in this kind mood. They walked in silence, wind buffeting armor with the warning of an incoming storm. Sealed inside her beskar’gam, Fynta was comfortable enough to outlast the chilly winds. Or, she would have been were it not for her husband’s surly demeanor.

Fynta considered apologizing again, even of suggesting that they find a cozy place to wait until morning, but held her tongue. Aric would stop when he was ready, it was best to let him lead in times like this.

A heavy sigh broke over the open comm line, and Fynta braced for the long overdue rant. Instead, Aric sounded resigned. “I can’t believe you forgot to download the map.”

Fynta winced, then jogged to catch up with him. “Yes, you can. You’ve been my XO for how long?”

With a sound that was half growl, half chuckle, Jorgan angled his helmet towards Fynta. “Clearly not long enough.”

Fynta grinned, even though she knew that Jorgan couldn’t see her. “Better stick around, love. You haven’t learned all my tricks yet.”


	28. Picnic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picnic  
> Word Count: 270  
> A/N: The Little Oyu'baat Tapcaf is from the story Shenanigans, where Vik, Cormac, and Fynta were left to their own devices while Yuun, Elara, and Jorgan were away on business.

“When you said picnic, I imagined something a little different,” Jorgan commented, blinking at the blanket spread over the rooftop.

Fynta knelt on the fabric, arranging weapons in a row from largest to smallest, and setting their matching ammo boxes in order. She looked up, brows furrowed, then glanced back at the array before her. “What do you mean?”

Jorgan folded his arms and cocked a brow at his wife. “Food, for starters.” A slow grin spread across Fynta’s face, and she angled her head for him to look over the ledge. Jorgan submitted grudgingly, and was surprised to find more rooftops otherwise occupied. Most of which by individuals wearing beskar’gam. “Fynta?”

She joined him, leaning further out over the abyss than Aric was comfortable with. “It’s a game that the owners of the Little Oyu'baat Tapcaf host every year.” Fynta waved a hand in a wide arc. “The person who takes out the most targets wins free drinks for the next year.” Her grin widened when she smacked Jorgan’s chest with the back of her hand before returning to the weapons. “You’re my ace in the hole.”

“You brought me along to win you free drinks at a local pub?” Jorgan did a quick headcount, noting that most groups had upwards of five or more. “What does everyone else get?”  
Fynta’s impish expression hadn’t slipped when Jorgan faced her again. “A party. With lots of food.”

Jorgan sighed, ignoring the knowing gleam in Fynta’s eyes when his stomach growled audibly. He dropped into position next to his wife and tested the sniper rifle. “Alright, let’s wrap this up quickly.”


	29. Road/Space Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Road Trips   
> Word Count: 146

While Fynta watched the stars streak past, Jorgan watched her. He’d never appreciated the peace of hyperspace until this rowdy Mandalorian stumbled into his life. Fynta brought new clarity to every situation, and she never missed an opportunity to enjoy the small pleasures that their galaxy had to offer. Including the silence that enveloped their ship while traveling at the speed of light.

As Jorgan studied his wife’s features, the familiar blue target tattoo made more prominent by the console lights, he felt a contentment that the young Aric Jorgan couldn’t have fathomed. Here, on the bridge of the Thunderclap, hurdling through space towards there next mission, all was right in the galaxy. Nothing could touch them until they landed, offering the Havoc commanders a rare moment of quiet.

Fynta turned as if sensing Aric’s thoughts and cocked her head. “Everything alright, cyar’ika?”

Jorgan responded with an open smile, one that never ceased to make Fynta light up. “Everything’s perfect.”


	30. I Love You's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Love You’s  
> Word Count: 416

Fynta could barely breathe. Aric sat at the conference table reassembling his sniper rifle the same as he had done a hundred times before. She knew how much this man meant to her, how desperately she needed him in her life. Jorgan was so much more than a companion. He was her conscience and closest friend. Fynta had confided in him things that she’d never told another soul, including her brother. There was nothing about her hidden from Jorgan, a Cathar, who by all rights should be her enemy.

 _Just do it,_ Fynta commanded herself. She needed to stop being such a coward, stop playing these games with Aric. _Cathar mate for life._ She was ready for that commitment, if he’d have her.

Steadily, Fynta entered the room and took a seat across from Aric. He glanced up, offering a tight lipped smile that made his eyes shine. Fynta’s nerve faltered.

“Last one?” Fynta asked, instead of saying what she’d intended. Aric nodded, slapping his palm against the stock to snap it into place. He held it out for Fynta’s inspection, and she made a noise of approval. “Very nice.”

A comfortable silence settled over them, and Fynta called on every skill in her arsenal to avoid fidgeting. Finally, Jorgan spoke up. “Did you need something?”

 _Yes,_ Fynta thought. She needed to tell him, right now, before she succumbed to cowardice. “I–” the words stuck in her throat. They were such simple words; they meant nothing, yet everything. She had never uttered those three words to another man apart. “I was bored.”

_Har’chaak._

Jorgan chuckled, then stood and stretched. “I’m going to turn in for the night.” He paused at the door. “You sure you didn’t need anything?”

Fynta shook her head, frustration and grief warring for dominance as Aric slipped from the room. Fynta sighed, then slammed her fist into the desk. “I love you,” she muttered.

**Bonus:**

Sender: Captain Aric Jorgan  
Recipient: Major Fynta Wolfe

_Neither of us has ever been very good at this, putting words to the way we feel. We watch each other’s backs, yell when we’re scared, and make love as often as we can. But, underneath all of that, I think there is more to me and you. We’re a team, and we have been since the day the old Havoc Squad defected._

_What I’m trying to say is that I think there’s a future for us, Fynta Wolfe. That I love you, and I’ve got your six, always._


End file.
